Derived
by Flick-chan
Summary: Pippin seeks freedom - Merry offers redemption... one-shot


Author's Notes: Ah. The time cometh. My first go at some 'The Lord of the Rings' fanfiction. Well, it's been a long road, but hopefully I'm improving. This takes place in 'The Two Towers', shortly after Gandalf says 'Now, I will leave you two together for a while.' I've slightly altered the cannon, and decided that Merry was awake when they agreed to send Pippin to Minas Tirith, and has told Pippin about the conversation. All right? Some might see this as slash, but I see it more as extreme friendship - believe what you want. Enjoy the story. 

Disclaimer: Tolkien and New-Line own everything. I own nothing. God Bless you, JRR. 

Dedication: To everyone at the Redblade Forum. Happy holidays, guys! 

"I miss those days, 

I miss those ways, 

When I got lost in fantasies, 

In a cartoon land of mystery, 

In a place you will grow old, 

In a place you won't feel cold." 

-: 'Innocent Eyes', by 'Delta Goodrem' 

************* 

Derived 

By Flick-chan 

************* 

"What if I don't come back?" 

Meriadoc Brandybuck propped himself up on two elbows, wiping the crust out of one eye with his finger. It was time for a wash - he hadn't had a proper one for almost a fortnight now, and even by a hobbit's standards, the smell coming from his armpits was quite nasty. "You're talking in circles again, Pip," he yawned, resisting the temptation to nestle back into the blanket Gandalf had given to him only a few hours before. 

His heart felt weary, his brain tired. He had overheard a conversation between the wizard, Aragorn and Théoden that he was quite certain he was not supposed to have listened to. They had spoken of the forces of evil, of how Sauron's armies were massing in the south. His legions were getting ready to strike - the city of Minas Tirith was going to fall, and fall hard. There would be massacre, slaughter of the women and children, and a most horrific death to any soldier who stood in his way. 

Merry didn't like to think of Minas Tirith for too long. It reminded him of Boromir, and he had no wish to relive such a dreadful and painful part of his history. Boromir was gone. Some people maintained that he had submitted to the power of darkness, but Merry knew that to remember a man of such great valour like that would be an insult to his memory. Boromir's death had not been in vain, nor indeed, a mistake on his own part. Only himself, Pippin, and Aragorn knew this - and although Legolas and Gimli were prepared to take Aragorn's word on the subject, Merry was unsure what Frodo and Sam's reaction to his death would be. If they ever discovered. 

"I mean, from Minas Tirith." The chamber was cast in darkness, with only the dim flicker of a fired pipe smouldering in the distance. Merry turned to meet Pippin's eyes. They seemed hollow, gaunt in some way. Now, Merry felt a surge of compassion mixed with his contempt. Although he was annoyed with Pippin for having touched Saruman's tool in the first place, he could not help but feel sorry for the younger hobbit. He was scared. 

Pippin sat up slowly, huddled in the grey bedclothes. Although the blanket was wrapped tightly around him, he'd never felt colder in his life. "Gandalf says we're going to war," he whispered. "Actual war - with swords and spears. Not with Treebeard and his friends." 

Merry nodded. Pippin looked as though he'd seen a ghost...although the dark lord hardly constituted as something as friendly as that. He gave a small smile. "We are." 

"What if I die?" Pippin began to rock back and forth. Merry cast a glance behind him. The glimmer of light in the hallway was fading, the others were moving away - perhaps for more private discussion about Frodo and Sam. He would've liked to have joined in, but he felt that even though he wasn't best pleased with Pippin at the moment, he couldn't leave him alone in the dark. 

He shook his head. "You won't, Pip. You won't." 

Pippin's eyes grew wider, but did not lose that hollow, empty feeling. "How do you know?" he asked softly, gently fingering the wool. Merry could feel nothing but sympathy. He remembered how Pippin had looked only a few weeks ago, when they had left Rivendell. He'd seemed so excited about their adventure - because he knew it as nothing more. It was a chance to have fun, to meet some new people. There wasn't a chance they were going to be killed, or have to face the most evil, deranged soul in the whole of Middle Earth. 

Merry, on the otherhand, whilst almost as innocent, knew there was something bigger behind their quest. He'd seen the mist in Elrond's eyes when Gandalf had agreed that they be allowed to join Frodo, and complete the Fellowship. Merry had always thought that Elrond's concern was undue, but after seeing the terror in Pippin's eyes tonight, he began to wonder if the Elf Lord had been correct in wanting to send them back to the Shire. 

Maybe his fears had been confirmed. Perhaps Pippin's mistake would be the ending of them all. "I just do," he replied quietly, closing his eyes, and trying to ignore the sinking feeling that was rising at the back of his throat. "Now go to sleep." 

Silence fell, and for several seconds, it seemed to Merry as though he were in eternal bliss. Even if there were no stars, no songs, no pipe-weed or beer or food, there was one thing at least. There was hope, and the joy at having eased the burden of dread in Pippin's mind. And that was something. 

"Merry?" Pippin spluttered, and even through the thickness of the grey cloth, Merry could see that he was crying. White pearly tears that he had never seen before dribbled down Pippin's cheeks, but he did nothing to stop them. "Are you angry with me?" 

How had he known? "Yes," replied Merry. "But don't worry about that, now. Just go to sleep, Pip." He risked a smile. "Can't have you feeling tired in battle, can we?" 

"But this is more important," Pippin pointed out. "What've I done?" 

Merry sighed. "You know what, Pip. You touched it - you touched it, even when Gandalf told us of the evil it would bring to our company. It almost killed you. And I almost lost you." He swallowed. "Does our friendship mean that little, that you'd throw it all away for something which looks pretty?" 

"I didn't mean it," he sobbed back, clutching at the blanket. "I didn't." 

It was just as well they were having this conversation in the dark, because Merry didn't think he could've sustained himself for much longer if he'd had to stare at Pippin's tears. "You did," he said, reaching up to uncrumple his hair, desperate for something which would take his mind off Pippin's sadness. He didn't like seeing his friend like this. So lonely. So vulnerable. 

Biting down on his lip, Pippin frowned. "I'm sorry." 

"You don't even know what you're apologising for!" Merry exclaimed. "You don't know what you did to me. What you did to everyone." He glared. "You're just too stupid to see it." 

Pippin blinked. "I don't mean to be." He looked down at his feet. "You know that." He turned his head into the blanket, and rested it on the bed. "It's just that I'm scared, Merry," he spoke into the pillow. "Scared of dying." 

"For goodness sake," Merry moved up onto the bed, throwing an arm around Pippin's deflated shoulders. "You've got Gandalf to protect you - nothing's going to happen." He laughed gruffly. "Heck, if anyone dies, it'll be me." 

"Don't say that!" Pippin cried miserably. "Better me than you - I'm worth less. And anyway - " he paused for a moment " - I don't want to be a burden on him. He's got more than enough to deal with, without making sure one of us hasn't kicked the bucket!" 

"If that's what you think, then you're a fool," said Merry grimly. "You're a fool in more ways than I would ever have guessed. How you could think that Gandalf doesn't care about your life is beyond me. He's taking you to Minas Tirith for your own safety - to make sure that you aren't killed by Sauron. He's risking everything to protect you. Doesn't that mean anything to you at all?" 

"Of course, it means the world to me!" Pippin replied, indignantly. "It's just, I can't get the thought out of my mind..." He buried his face in his hands. 

"What thought?" encouraged Merry. "Tell me what's wrong. I can only help if you're honest with me." Pippin raised his head slightly, and took a deep breath. 

"What..." He swallowed. "What if this is my last night in Middle Earth?" 

Merry tightened his grip. "Don't be ridiculous," he told him firmly. "You'll still be here tomorrow." He gave a forceful grin. "In fact, I'd be willing to bet you'll be around long after a lot of people. You've got that survival instinct, Pip. We both have." 

"And if I never see you again? What's going to be my last memory of our friendship - the fact that I could never do anything right, and you hated me for it?" 

Pursing his lips together, Merry cupped his hand around Pippin's cheek. "Look at me," he commanded gently. "And stop crying. I don't hate you." He wiped away a stray tear, and met Pippin's eyes with a kind smile. "I could never hate you. Of course you'll see me again - it'd be silly to think otherwise." 

Pippin crinkled his nose. "And if I don't?" he asked, uncertainly. 

"You will," answered Merry. "I'll make sure of it." He pulled the blanket further up Pippin's chest. "You always were a bit dense, if you don't mind me saying so." 

"It _is_ true," conceeded Pippin, grinning now, in spite of the fear he still held inside him. "Will you do one thing for me, Merry?" he turned to the elder hobbit. "Can we pretend it's my last night here?" 

Merry seemed puzzled, but agreed. "All right - if it makes you feel better." He laxed his grip a little. "So tell me, how would you like to spend your last night?" 

"Promise you won't laugh." 

"I don't make promises like that." Merry snickered, as though to prove his point. 

"Fine," said Pippin huffily. "Saying goodbye." 

Starting to unbend his knee, Merry strove to rise. "Then we'd better go and find Aragorn, hadn't we?" 

Pippin gave a light scowl. "Just to you." 

Merry froze. "What did you say?" he said slowly. 

"Just to you," repeated Pippin. 

Waving his hand impatiently, Merry nodded. "I heard that. You know what I meant, Pip." 

"Then why did you ask - " 

"_Pippin_!" 

Now, Pippin was feeling distinctly uncomfortable. "If you don't want to, I don't mind. What I mean is - " he added hastily, " - you can say no." He shank away from Merry's touch. 

His finger poised on Pippin's cheek, Merry inched his forehead slightly closer to Pippin's nose. "So, this is what you want," he murmured softly, his breath tickling Pippin's clammy skin. "This is what you've been waiting for...I should've guessed..." He parted his lips silently, reaching down to meet with Pippin's own. 

"Are you sure - " 

He didn't get the chance to finish. Merry captured his lips in a gentle kiss, bringing his other hand forward to hold both Pippin's cheeks within his fingers. They remained cold and still, despite the sudden rush of energy the kiss provided Merry with. There was no fight for dominance, just the simple convergence of slithers of sensitive pink skin, tinged with the ecstasy of attraction. Seconds later, Merry pulled away, his own cheeks stained an exuberant colour of rose red. 

"I'm sure," he breathed. His hands fell from Pippin's face to his shoulders as he moved behind him, and pulled the smaller body in toward him, nestling in the warm between their torsos. After a few moments of serene silence, he spoke again. "Is that good enough for you, Pip?" 

Pippin kicked the blanket away. "Almost," he replied, burrowing into the front of Merry's shirt, and ignoring the belt and buttons which lay there. "Perfect," he smiled, as Merry stroked his hair softly with his palm. 

"So if we never see each other again, you'll remember me with good grace, yes?" Merry kissed the top of his head. 

"Of course. I do hope I see you again, Merry." 

"Like I said," Merry whispered. "You will." He pressed Pippin's back into his belly, and shifted his hands so that they fitted snugly around Pippin's waist. "Now," he said soothingly. "Go to sleep." 

He glanced down, only to see that Pippin's eyes had regained some of their childish warmth, and, that for once in his life, he had obeyed. 

Several hours later, Merry awoke, and automatically reached for Pippin's shoulder to rouse him. It wasn't there. He sat up swiftly, gazing about the room, half in wonder, half in dread. 

"They left," he turned as Aragorn sank down beside him. "A short time ago." He looked grave. "They ride to Minas Tirith. To war." 

"Not to war." Merry ungrasped his fist to find a lock of curly brown hair caught between his fingers. Aragorn raised his eyebrows. "To hope." 

End 

Author's Notes: Hope you enjoyed. Have a wonderful 2004! 


End file.
